


(When you go away) I shine for you all night

by sdwolfpup



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, The Quiet Isle, a prompt meme entry that spiraled out of control, baby's first book canon fic, slightly angsty but just imagine it all ends up okay in the end, what a surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24124573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup
Summary: “Whatever the relationship, this cabin is for men, or a family, and she cannot stay.”He turned to Brienne, intending to convince her to let him watch over the boy. Jaime had enough experience with vigils and death, he would suffice for one poor lad. But Brienne's face, the despair and bitter agony, brought him short. Jaime opened his mouth to speak and shocked himself as much as her. “If a family may stay, then so might she.”“She is not his mother, Ser.”“Aye, but I'm sharing this cabin with him and she is my wife.”
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 78
Kudos: 299





	(When you go away) I shine for you all night

**Author's Note:**

> I was prompted "fake relationship AU" by onefenix for a tumblr meme and thought "what if they just PRETENDED to be married for the Quiet Isle" and this happened. Sadly most of this is getting them into position for fake marriage, but I hope you enjoy anyway! There's no concrete happy ending resolution, either, but you are welcome to imagine it ends that way. It would take another thirty thousand words minimum to write it and I definitely don't have time for that. :)
> 
> Lyrics from Kris Delmhorst's "Hummingbird," which is a GORGEOUS song and very Jaime pining for Brienne POV.

“We're nearly there,” Brienne said quietly as she rowed and rowed and rowed them onward. Jaime had sought to share the burden, but the stubborn wench had merely glanced at his golden hand and kept at it. He'd offered up the hedge knight, Hunt's, help as a substitute, but the man had been sullen and withdrawn and merely glared at them both. If it had been Jaime tucked into the bow with two good hands, the wench would have harangued him nonstop to assist, but she let Hunt be. Jaime didn't understand why Hunt received special treatment, and he certainly didn't like it. Everyone they met seemed to have earned more of Brienne's goodwill than Jaime, though Jaime had armed her, though Jaime had sent her into the world with his sword and the King's protection. 

He eyed again the angry welts at her throat, the bandage falling off her cheek, the fresh wounds from their battle with Lady Stoneheart and the Brotherhood. Perhaps that protection had been less effective than Jaime had hoped. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Jaime had failed to protect almost everyone he'd set out to. What was one more giant, naive beast of a woman. 

“There,” she whispered, and Jaime peered into the gloom. It was well past dusk, and the dark was nearly complete. As he stared, searching for what she had already seen, a faint flicker of light caught his eye. The Quiet Isle lay just ahead and to their starboard side. 

Jaime glanced down at the boy whose head was in his lap. Podrick, she'd called him repeatedly, his name scraping out of her wrecked throat. He looked terribly young and near death. 

“We have to save him,” Brienne had pleaded after Stoneheart and the Brotherhood had been dealt with. “Please, Ser Jaime.” 

“Unless you have secretly become a red priest since last we spoke, we cannot.”

“The Quiet Isle,” she'd gasped. “They will heal him.” 

The boy was beyond healing by Jaime's estimation, but the wench's startling eyes had been so wide and hopeful Jaime had only shrugged and said, “If you insist. We best leave immediately.”

They had, Hunt crawling into the boat though neither of them had commanded it. Jaime only knew his name because Brienne had asked after him when they'd arrived at the camp. 

Jaime had underestimated Brienne's facility for subterfuge. Not to him, of course; he had known half a day's ride in that she was leading him somewhere dreadful and dangerous, and he'd wanted to see it play out, to try to understand what could make the Maid of Tarth lie so boldly, if not well. It hadn't been difficult to determine the cause upon their arrival. The boy, the hedge knight, and the maid all had the same marks about their necks, and there was the body of Catelyn Stark, reanimated with pure hatred for every Lannister in Westeros. The leap to understand what had driven Brienne to play him false was simple enough – a maimed lion's life for theirs – but he hadn't anticipated she would strike the first and fatal blow at Lady Stoneheart herself. 

They had been willing to let her and her companions go, had Jaime bound and kneeling before Catelyn Stark's rage as their weapons had been returned. Jaime hadn't blamed Brienne at all. A violent death was never a question in his mind, he had only ever wondered how, and who. 

However, Brienne had seen Podrick and Hunt to safety, and had returned for Jaime, like he was one of her wayward charges. Absurd girl, convinced still that there was some balance left to be paid. Perhaps she was a Lannister, with a debtor's morality like that. 

The boat hissed onto shore and Jaime set the boy aside and leapt out before Brienne could move from her spot, grabbing the thick wood with one hand and pulling hard. He got it up another few feet before the combined weight was too much for his single hand, and he'd reluctantly looked to Brienne for help. Together they pulled the boat, the boy, and the deadweight all the way onto shore. The single light they had spotted was up on a hill at the far edge of the beach. A small tower that only pretended to be a lighthouse. 

Brienne scooped up Podrick into her arms, an easy task with a small boy and arms as strong as hers. Jaime kicked Hunt in the shoulder and the hedge knight grunted and clambered out of the boat himself, slipping on the wet sand. Jaime did not offer his hand to steady him. 

They walked, Jaime and Brienne side-by-side, Hunt a few feet back, to the tower, and one of the Brothers waited at the base, hands clasped in front of him. 

“Well met,” he said, “though it appears not well for all.”

“Do you remember me?” Brienne asked, and the Brother nodded. Jaime shot her a curious look, but she was too consumed with her urgent task. “Then surely you remember the boy as well. He needs your help. He's been grievously injured and I am afraid--” Brienne choked on whatever she was about to say, blinking rapidly down at the white-faced boy in her arms. 

“He needs healing,” Jaime stepped in, using his best Lord Commander voice, “lots of it, and quickly. Can you help?”

The Brother considered him and Jaime was readying for a fight when the Brother started off, motioning for them to follow. “We can,” he said as they walked. “This way.”

He pointed them to a small cabin and Brienne carried the boy inside, laid him down upon one of the two cots with the gentleness Jaime remembered from Harrenhal. The Brother had disappeared and he, Hunt, and Brienne took up most of the space in the room, staring down at the boy. Jaime watched his sunken chest and worried for a moment they were too late, until he saw it rise, barely. 

“This is your fault,” Hunt said and Jaime looked up to find his eyes hard and fixed on him. 

“Was that my sword that cut him open? My hand that tied his noose? Is that what it's been up to since it departed my body?”

Hunt sneered. “It may as well have been. If Lady Brienne hadn't been marching around with your stink all over her, we might have--”

“Enough,” she said, and though her voice was sheer exhaustion, it still carried powerfully in the small space. “It is the fault only of those who did the deed: the Brotherhood are to blame, and they paid the price. Now we must be calm for Pod.”

“You think the Kingslayer cares what happens to the boy?”

“I know Ser Jaime has always protected the innocent,” she said and Jaime wanted to scoff along with Hunt, but he found himself entirely incapable of it. 

“Move aside,” the Brother said, coming back into the already-cramped room. Keep to the walls or you'll have to stay outside.” 

Hunt chose the outside option, but Brienne crammed herself into the corner, so Jaime pressed up against the wall near her, and they watched the Brothers work in silence. After a short time, he leaned closer to whisper in her ear. 

“I should have given you an armored shell from crown to toe,” he said. “I did not realize you were so determined to injure every soft part of yourself.”

“Be quiet,” she hushed him, though her uninjured cheek was pink.

Eventually the brother had bandaged the boy and stuffed him full of whatever poultices and potions they had, and they turned and indicated everyone should exit. Outside the door of the cabin, the two men conversed briefly before turning to Brienne. 

“He is very badly off, my lady,” the first Brother said. “He has a long night ahead of him, but we should know by morning what his chances are.”

“I shall keep vigil over him all night,” she said, and the Brothers exchanged a look. 

“You cannot, my lady. This is the men's area. One of your companions may do it instead.”

“But he is my--” she hesitated and Jaime lifted a curious brow. “My responsibility,” Brienne finally said. “I must be with him.”

“I'm afraid I cannot allow it. You're aware of the rules of the Isle.”

Jaime snorted, a loud, obnoxious noise that drew all of their attention. “Are you afraid she'll besmirch the poor boy's honor? He's a child, she's a sister to him, if anything.” 

“Whatever the relationship, this cabin is for men, or a family, and she cannot stay.”

He turned to Brienne, intending to convince her to let him watch over the boy. Jaime had enough experience with vigils and death, he would suffice for one poor lad. But Brienne's face, the despair and bitter agony, brought him short. Jaime opened his mouth to speak and shocked himself as much as her. “If a family may stay, then so might she.”

“She is not his mother, Ser.”

“Aye, but I'm sharing this cabin with him and she is my wife.” He stared hard at Brienne, willing her to accept one more lie in service of saving the boy. She'd done it readily enough before, surely this lie would be no more difficult than the other.

“Are you... certain, Ser?”

Jaime shot him a disdainful glare. “You think I would not know my own wife?”

“My understanding was that the Kingsguard were not allowed to wed.”

“They are not,” Jaime agreed cheerfully. “Good thing I have been relieved of my role.” Another lie, but it tripped so easily off of his tongue Jaime wished fiercely for a moment it was true. “And finding myself suddenly the unmarried heir to Casterly Rock, it seemed time to take a wife, even one as bullheaded as this one.”

Brienne, who had been frozen in shock, did thaw at that, her brows drawing together in a way that perversely delighted him. “Ser--”

“When _will_ you call me simply Jaime, my lady?” he asked. Feeling oddly giddy and bold, he took her thick-fingered hand and kissed the top of it. Even in the dark it was impossible to miss the apple-red blush that stole over her. 

“This is... unexpected news,” the Brother said. 

“Ask our companion,” Jaime replied, gesturing grandly at Hunt with his golden hand. “He witnessed the ceremony.”

The entire group turned to Ser Hyle, who was staring, open-mouthed. He looked at Brienne, and Jaime could only see the back of her head, but whatever Hunt read on her face, he grimaced and nodded jerkily. “Aye, she bound herself to him, though I don't understand it,” he muttered. 

“There, just as I said. Now I and my wife are going to sit vigil for the boy tonight. Please see that Ser Hyle is given accommodations and food and his wounds are tended as well. He fought bravely in the battle that took young Podrick down.” 

Hyle didn't look any happier, but when Jaime nodded slightly in his direction in thanks, the hedge knight's bitterly pursed lips eased a fraction. 

Brienne's expression was entirely unreadable, and Jaime felt a sudden jolt of worry he had somehow done the wrong thing here, though he'd meant it for the best. The boy would most likely die tonight, and another piece of Brienne would have died with him if she weren't there. One night pretending to be married seemed a minor price to pay, even if it was to him. Perhaps he should have suggested she and Hunt had married; it would have made more sense, Jaime supposed, though the idea of it sat like week-old gruel in his belly. He didn't know anything of Hunt, better not to leave the man alone with Brienne with an empty cot right there. 

The Brothers took Hyle away, left Jaime and Brienne to their cabin with Podrick and instructions on what to expect and a small meal and drink for each of them. 

“You may come for us at any time should his condition change,” the Brother said. Then, looking between them he added, “Congratulations on your binding.” If Jaime didn't know any better, he would have thought the man was being sarcastic, and that it was not directed favorably towards Jaime. 

Brienne knelt, still in her armor, at Podrick's side and took his small hand in hers. “I am here,” she said softly. “I will be here when you wake.” 

The tenderness of it slipped under Jaime's skin, and he felt like an unwelcome witness to her almost motherly concern. It did not surprise Jaime to see her capable of it, not when she had cared for even him in his most abominable state. But it unnerved him nonetheless, and he began removing his armor, groaning in relief with each freed buckle, until he was half done on one side. 

“Wench,” he said, not too loudly, but her head jerked around anyway. “Come help your husband with his armor.”

Brienne flushed deeply and glared at him. “You do not have to continue your charade any longer, Ser Jaime. There is no one here but us.”

“As befits a newly married couple,” he said, grinning. “Though the addition of the boy puts a damper on things.”

“Please,” she begged, and Jaime bit his tongue on more teasing. 

“Very well, but I do need help.” He clanked his golden hand gently against his still armored left side. “It doesn't work well for anything but awkwardly holding shields and punching deserving fools in the jaw.”

Brienne rose and brusquely began unbuckling his armor. “Punch many fools, have you?” she asked, looking slightly down at him. He always forgot how tall she was until she was near enough to touch, as though even a foot more distance than that put her out of perspective. 

“Enough that I've perfected my technique.” He thought of Connington sprawled on the ground and smiled to himself. 

Jaime's armor loosened and together he and Brienne removed it and set it aside. “There,” she said, looking back at Podrick. 

“Here, let me help you with yours.”

“I don't mind it.”

“You don't now, but you will come morning when the boy awakes and wants an embrace.” She blushed again, for some reason, and Jaime started at her buckles. Her fingers joined his and they worked together, brushing against each other frequently, but always towards a joint purpose. Just as they had fought against the Brotherhood, the two of them back-to-back and falling into an unexpectedly complementary rhythm. 

Soon enough they were both in their sweaty, filthy linens, and Brienne was knelt down once more at Podrick's side. Jaime ate some of the meal, shoved the rest into Brienne's hands and forced her to eat as well. He laid down on the cot and stared up at the ceiling before sighing and sitting back up. 

“You should sleep, wench.”

“I don't wish to sleep.”

“You won't do him any good if you pass out from exhaustion, and you're more wounded than I. You sleep first and I'll keep vigil.” Brienne glanced between him and the prone boy, then back again. 

“If he wakes--”

“You will be the first to know. You're no more than an arm's length away on that cot, I'll shake you in time to the fluttering of his eyelids.” 

Brienne's mouth formed a displeased moue, but she stood and stared down at Jaime sitting on the cot. From this angle she loomed, but he did not feel intimated by it. She was a force as much as the waves or the trees, and no honest man would be afraid of them. “You must promise me you will wake me at any change at all.”

“I promise you with the same fervor I made our wedding vows,” Jaime quipped, and Brienne looked, absurdly, hurt for a fleeting moment, her eyes dancing away. 

“You made me no promises, Ser, do not jest so.” 

_I would have_ , he thought suddenly, and he looked down at his golden hand. “My apologies, my lady. I only meant to ease the heavy weight of your brow. Tyrion was always the funnier of the two of us.” He swallowed and met her steady gaze. Her eyes were still as blue and bright as jewels, even with all the other harm that had been done to her. “I promise you, should the boy so much as twitch in his sleep, I will wake you.”

Brienne studied him and her acceptance came quickly. Her trust had not been so easily earned before. “I am tired,” she admitted, as he stood to give her the space. Jaime sat cross-legged on the ground between the two cots, his back to the wall. He watched Brienne lower her bulky form onto the cot, heard it creak slightly under her weight as she shifted and turned so she was facing Podrick. For a long minute there was quiet and Jaime pressed his head back against the wall and tried not to think of weddings or vows or children on the edge of death. 

“Jaime,” Brienne said, and his name echoed around the room before it struck his heart. “Thank you.”

Jaime licked his lips and wondered what she could possibly be thanking him for. Hunt had not been wrong that they wouldn't have been in that position at all if not for Jaime.

“It was nothing,” he said, though he knew that was a lie even before it formed on his tongue. If he had been released from the Kingsguard, if the responsibility to secure the Lannister legacy had fallen on him, Jaime found the idea of Brienne as his choice more appealing than he would have thought. She'd spar with him, at least, and he suspected she would greet his cheerful morning kisses in front of the staff with a dour, embarrassed blush each day. Yes, she would make an amusing wife, and a hardworking one, taking on her duties with determination and focus. And perhaps with time she would even grow to care for him. 

As for the bedroom and heirs... Jaime glanced at her, saw her eyes were closed, pale lashes soft on her cheek. She fought with too much passion to not be capable of it in the bed as well, he guessed. It would be invigorating to feel all that muscle under him, or perhaps on top, the way she had straddled him when they'd fought that first time. Jaime felt himself stir in his linens and he sat up sharply, reigning his thoughts in. 

_Foolish_ , he cursed himself. It was a lie to help the boy and nothing more. When they were done here, their group would part ways. Brienne still had her oath to find Sansa Stark, and Jaime was still a member of the Kingsguard and sworn to the son he would never truly have as his own. 

But as he watched over Podrick, as he gazed at Brienne sleeping peacefully nearby, Jaime allowed himself for one night to believe that the lie was the truth, and his family was here, and safe, and well. 


End file.
